


Alexandra

by lsdme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Slight Lydia/Stiles in the AU, Stilinski Family Feels!!, Touching, boys and their feelings!, good stuff happens at baseball games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsdme/pseuds/lsdme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles realizes the perfect world he always wanted, wasn't actually what he wanted at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the "What Is And What Should Never Be" episode of Supernatural. The title is a name of a song, I chose it because in this video ( http://vimeo.com/25102960 ) they discuss it and say they hope people "consider loving life for what it is, instead of what it could be." Un-Beta'd. This wouldn't be written without Secondstar's encouragement!

“Like I’m drowning,” Stiles repeated to himself as he stepped out of the counselor’s office.

School had ended hours ago, but he had been given detention for falling asleep in history class. And not just dozing off either, because who didn’t doze off in history class, he fell asleep; head pillowed on arms, drool on his sleeve, dead to the world, asleep.

“I’m sorry my lecture was so boring for you, Mr. Stilinski,” Mrs. Matthews, the teacher, had said when Stiles finally shuffled his way to the front while the rest of the class filed out. He was embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck to duck his head. “I’m sorry,” he had said.

“No excuses?” his teacher asked, obviously prepared for the usual spiel students gave her.  
Stiles shrugged, he was out of excuses, “No.”

His teacher looked him over and exhaled. “Fine. Detention with me after school, and then I want you to speak to the counselor.”

“What?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.

She looked at him with a sad look in her eyes before squeezing his shoulder. “Go on to your next class, Stiles. I’ll see you after school.”

That was how he ended up sitting in the counselor’s office explaining everything to her, well, everything within reason. But what he said was the truth. He felt like he was drowning, like no matter what he did he was being pulled under and there was nothing he could do about it. He would end up taking that breath, and maybe somewhere deep down he sort of wanted to. What did he have anyway? Not a whole hell of a lot. Sure he had his dad, but all the trouble he had caused the past year was making things worse for them. He had no girlfriend, Lydia still wasn’t quite sure he existed or not, some days were better than others. Scott was busy with Allison, and being needlessly stubborn about working with Derek.

_Derek._

Derek had his little pack of miscreants and he didn’t need Stiles anymore. Had he ever? Stiles had thought so at one point, but then Derek started his own Island of Misfit Toys-of-a-pack and was doing his own thing. Without Stiles’ help. The last time he saw Derek, Scott was dragging Stiles through the police station while Derek yelled “Take him. Go!”

They had spent hours paralyzed together (kind of on top of each other) on the floor of the station working out everything that was going on. It was a lot easier than all the times Stiles had tried to explain things to Scott only to be met with a blank stare. And it had worked, hell it was almost companionable, and if not for the paralysis Stiles totally would have put it in the top five in the list of Derek Hale interactions, not that he had a list. He definitely did not have a list.

Stiles pushed the side door to the school open and took a few deep breathes of the late afternoon air. As he stepped around the corner of the building he saw his was one of only a handful of cars still in the parking lot. He pulled his backpack around a little to dig for his keys, which is probably how he missed the Derek sized shadow he walked through while reaching for his car door, or maybe he was just used to Derek creeping around he barely noticed anymore.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice had more of a question in it than Stiles had ever heard before.

Stiles looked over a little confused, “Derek?” He seriously hadn’t noticed him. “Didn’t anyone tell you the whole creeping-up-on-people-in-parking-lots thing is kind of weird?”

Derek was giving him the oddest look.

“Stiles you walked right in front of me; I was standing right here...,” he paused. “It was the least creepiest thing I’ve done all day.”

Stiles snorted, giving up on finding his keys. “Now I know something is up, you’re trying to be funny.”

He heard Derek mumble something under his breath about how it _was_ funny before his mouth did that hurt puppy thing that Stiles tried not to find endearing. Stiles dropped his backpack to the ground and put his back against the jeep, mirroring Derek. “So what’s up? Did you need help or something because I haven’t seen you... you guys in a while and figured the wolves had wolved the hell out of the kanima or something.”

Derek was silent for a minute, not unexpectedly, so Stiles just waited.

“I came to see if you were okay,” Derek finally said. “Your heart....”

“My heart?” Stiles cut in, turning to look at him.

“...beat has been really off today,” Derek finished, looking concerned.

“My heartbeat?”

Stiles held his hand up, blocking the sun so he could see better. “You’ve been listening to my heart? from where? your house? oh my god were you sitting out here all afternoon? You were weren’t you!” Stiles’ arm flailed and pointed at Derek as he spoke. “How did nobody call the cops on your ass?”

Derek exhaled, putting his hand on Stiles’ upper arm to stop the movement. Stiles was expecting to be pushed up against the jeep, be threatened about being careful or something, but all he felt was a warm pressure on his arm.

“Stiles,” Derek said, low, squeezing his arm.

He took a deep breath, the warm scent of the sun filling his lungs and relaxing him. That’s what did it. Stiles folded, he sagged against the door. “I don’t know,” he began. “Nothing. Nothing is right. I didn’t think it would be like _this_.”

“You didn’t think what would be like this?” Derek asked, his hand still in place.

Stiles shrugged. “Life.”

“I know that feeling,” Derek whispered, like he was afraid to say it too loud; that none of this was what he had planned for himself either.

Stiles looked up at him and he saw it. He saw the boy Derek really was, he was only a few years older than Stiles himself and it was easy to forget. “I’m sorry,” Stiles said, hoping that Derek could hear everything in it. Sorry for his family, for the life he had planned, for the life _any_ of them had planned.

Derek nodded, taking a deep breath. Suddenly Stiles felt a little better, his head felt clearer, like maybe he wasn’t in this all on his own.

“Was there something you wanted?” Stiles asked again, not used to having Derek just be there.

He shook his head. “No, I just was worr...,” Derek stopped talking mid-sentence, the hand on Stiles’ arm tightening. His head did the thing that Stiles likes to call ‘the wolf tilt’ and then Derek was picking up Stiles’ bag, shoving it into his arms and telling him to run.

“Run?! Dude my jeep is right here,” Stiles could feel the edge coming back with the sudden adrenaline. He could see Derek’s eyes flitting back and forth, tracking something’s quick movements.

“Where are your keys?” Derek yelled, moving to stand in front of Stiles, blocking him off from the front. 

Stiles patting down all his pockets and began tearing through his bag. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Shit. Derek.” His keys weren’t there. He reached out to tap him on the shoulder because he always found it was easier to get their attention while they were using their wolf senses if he touched them. “Der...” Stiles began again, his hand just grazing Derek’s jacket before Derek was knocked hard to the left and a pair of glowing blue eyes were looking at him. There was a pause in time where Stiles’ thoughts flew by; _Derek’s eyes don’t flash blue anymore. I wonder if he wishes they still did? Who is this guy? I was going to have spaghetti for dinner. Why would someone tattoo their face like that?_ Then a hand came up and knocked him out.

***

Stiles awoke in his bed. His head hurt a little, but no more than it always did these days. It took him about a minute of waking up, moving closer to consciousness, before he remembered what had happened the afternoon before. He didn’t know how he ended up back in his bed or what that thing was, and he hoped Derek was okay, and his jeep. Stiles took a deep breath, too many thoughts for first thing in the morning. He rolled over to grab his cell phone, his arm reaching blindly for where he usually kept it on his nightstand, when his face collided with … a person. In his bed. Stiles froze, cracking open an eye, to see nothing but hair, tons of strawberry blonde hair.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, before jerking his whole body back and rolling straight onto the floor.

“I swear to god, Stiles,” Lydia’s voice was muffled from above him. “You fall off the bed more than any human ever.”

Stiles was frozen in place; possibly afraid to even breathe.

_What?!_ he mouthed soundlessly to himself. Why was Lydia Martin sleeping in his bed...with him?! Stiles sat up slowly, his eyes peering over the edge of the bed to where Lydia was sitting up, her back to him. She stretched her arms above her head, the bottom of her tank top visible from where Stiles was hiding, because yes, he was man enough to admit that he was hiding.

“I’m hopping in the shower,” Lydia said, standing up to reveal that she was just wearing the tank top and a pair of boy-cut underwear. Stiles thought he might die. She looked over at him and smiled, shaking her head a little. “I’m not even going to ask.”

Stiles may have gaped at her as she threw a robe around herself, grabbed her bag (oh my god why does she have a bag here?!), and walked by Stiles stopping to drop his phone into his lap.

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbled, looking up at her.

Lydia leaned down and pressed her lips to the corner of Stiles’ mouth, “morning,” she said before walking out of the room.

“Okay...,” Stiles said out loud, looking at the door Lydia closed behind her on the way out. “Okay.... Wait, what?” Stiles looked around the room. It was his bedroom, he knew that much, but there were little things he noticed about it that were different. Some of his posters were gone, his desk was clean, there was a throw pillow on the armchair in the corner, and sheer curtains on the windows. 

It was like it was his room, but not.

Something was definitely going on. He threw on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt before walking out into the rest of the house. He could hear the shower still running in the bathroom down the hall. Stiles tip-toed down the steps, peering around the corner and into the living room. Something was definitely going on because their living room was nice, not that it wasn’t nice before, but it had new looking furniture in it, and the room was bright and airy. And it smelled clean, like really clean, cleaner than he or his dad had ever managed to get it after his mom died.

Stiles’ eyes scanned the photos on the wall, familiar looking ones he had seen every day of his life of his parents on their wedding day, random birthday shots, Stiles in his lacrosse gear, pictures of cousins, and that’s when Stiles stopped dead in his tracks. There was a picture of him, in a cap and gown on graduation day with both his parents. Stiles’ heart lurched. He reached out to touch his mother’s face through the glass.

“What is going on?” he whispered.

There were footsteps coming down the steps and Stiles shuffled away from the pictures into more neutral territory into the center of the living room. He saw the corner of a bathrobe as someone walked into the kitchen. _Lydia_ , he thought, turning back to glance at the pictures.

He took some deep breaths, taking out his phone. He needed to talk to someone, get someone to help him figure out what the hell was going on. The background of his phone lit up as he hit the button, a picture of himself and Lydia smiled back at him. Stiles closed his eyes, counting to ten, when he opened them it was still there.

“Honey, would Lydia like some breakfast before she has to head out?” a voice called from the kitchen, a woman’s voice.

Stiles froze, his heart doing weird things in his chest. He suddenly remembered Derek being there at the school and telling him that his heart had sounded off lately. This couldn’t be related to that. His voice caught in his throat as he moved towards the kitchen and stood in the doorway.

“Mom?”

***

So Stiles’ mom was in the kitchen. In a bathrobe. Holding a cup of coffee. Stiles stared at her as he walked into the kitchen, fighting the urge to throw up. He walked right up and hugged her, burying his face on her shoulder. “Mom,” he breathed out, closing his eyes, and breathing in her scent. Her arms came around him and he relaxed into it, the tension draining from his body. And suddenly Stiles didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about where he was or what was happening, the pictures on the walls or the new furniture, all that mattered was that he had his mom back.

“You alright there?” she asked, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Stiles laughed a little and shrugged.

“Did you and Lydia have another....?” his mom began but then Lydia called his name from the stairs. Stiles let go of his mom and moved around the island the same time Lydia came walking in.

“Morning Mrs. S!” Lydia smiled, her hair still wet, pulled up into a bun on the back of her head. “Stiles I’ve got to run or I’m going to be late.”

Stiles just stared at her, but she looked unfazed, like Stiles’ lack of verbal ability around her was normal. Stiles could give her that.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” she asked, sliding a cardigan on.

“Uh...,” Stiles managed. “Yeah.”

“Bye Lydia,” his mom said from behind him, filling in where Stiles had fallen silent. And then she was gone, out of the house in a flurry of bags and heels clicking on the floor.

Stiles turned back around to see his mother looking at him.

“So did you?” she asked.

_Did he what?_

“Did you two have another argument?” she supplied when Stiles still couldn’t make his brain work. “I know how you’ve always felt about her, Stiles. And I think she’s a very nice girl, but I know how she can be, and I can see on your face something’s wrong.” Her hand was on his reaching across the island.

“Another?” Stiles croaked out.

His mom gave him what could only be called an I-wasn’t-born-yesterday look. “You may act like she is all that is sweet and holy in the world, but I can see it right there,” she moved her hand to point accusingly, “in the corner of your eye that you doubt....”

Stiles’ phone started to ring, causing him to jump. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket, his hands weren’t quite working right. Scott’s name flashed up on the caller ID and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He had to get this, he needed to spend time with his mom, but he had to answer so he could maybe understand what was going on.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I have to answer this,” he said, backing out of the room.

His mom smiled, “Oh is that Derek?” she asked as Stiles turned the corner, hitting answer.

“Hey Scott,” Stiles said, ignoring the fact that his _mom_ was asking about _Derek_.

Stiles didn’t know what he expected, but Scott sounded completely normal when he answered, “‘’Sup man!.”

“Scott! Tell me you’re you, like the normal you, because I think I’m in some sort of weird fantasy world that is normal but _not_!” he finished in a hush.

Scott laughed. “Yes, Stiles, I am me,” Scott said, and then mumbled “as weird as that sounds.”

“Thank God!” Stiles felt relieved. Maybe there was a spell on his house or something? “What are you doing now? Can I come over?”

“Sure, man, whenever” Scott began. “Lydia’s not still there is she? because she still kind of scares me.”

Stiles’ whole body tensed. “How did you know Lydia was here?”

“How did I know your girlfriend was there? Oh I don’t know, because yesterday you were all ‘we’ve been dating for a year and my parents are totally cool with Lydia sleeping over’”

“A YEAR!” Stiles squeaked, actually squeaked, as realization hit him. “You’re not you,” he moaned, dropping his head.

Scott didn’t seem that phased. “You could probably tone it back with the adderall now that it’s summer; I think it’s messing with your brain...in.. not a good way,” Scott finished and Stiles found himself at a total loss. “You still coming over?”

“Yeah, yes, yes,” Stiles answered quickly. “Let me just do some stuff around here. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

He could practically hear Scott shrug on the other end of the line. “Cool, later.”

“Later,” Stiles said, hanging up. He needed to think. His mom was alive, Lydia was his girlfriend and has been for a freaking year, but Scott was still his best friend, so it was okay. He could deal with this.

“Why are you sitting on the floor, Stiles?” his dad asked, walking in the front door, where apparently Stiles had sat down blocking the whole walkway.

“Dad!” Stiles exhaled, sagging back against the wall, relief at the familiarity of something from his everyday life flooding him in the face of his dad walking in wearing his uniform.

His dad raised an eyebrow at him, stepping over his legs since apparently Stiles couldn’t even get up.

“Hey!” Stiles’ mom yelled from the kitchen. “Got some coffee on for you.”

Stiles watched as his dad smiled softly as he took off his jacket, walking into the kitchen. There definitely wasn’t a tear in his eye when he saw his dad kiss his mom hello in doorway, telling her how glad he was to be home. “I missed you,” Stiles saw him say to her, smiling as he moved further into the kitchen.

_Me too_ , Stiles thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles climbed the side of Scott’s house, hopping up to his bedroom window and hoped that he didn’t come face-to-face with Scott and Allison making out on his bed (again). He plopped down to see Scott turning to smile at him from his computer chair, a little confused.

“Not using front doors anymore?” Scott asked, laughing a little.

Stiles flew up to a sitting position. “Why would I use the door? Your mom locks it - which ‘safety first’ as my dad likes to say - but this is easier. Plus I’m so used to you guys just coming in through my window all the time it’s like a force of habit; you know the whole privacy around werewolves thing never really works anyway, wait why are you looking at me like that? Is Allison, like, in the bathroom or something and you want me to go?”

Scott’s mouth was kind of hanging open at him. And now that Stiles was actually looking at him, Scott looking...small. Like, pre-werewolf small. _Shit! Maybe. No._ It was probably just the angle Stiles was sitting at. Stiles’ brain backtracked through everything he had just said. He really needed to work on controlling his brain-to-mouth filter if he really was in some sort of alternate reality (oh god did he really just think that?).

“Uhhmm, what I meant to say was ‘Hey Scott, How’s it going?’” Stiles smiled an obviously fake smiled and hoped for the best.

Silence.

“Allison?” Scott said, pausing before saying “...Argent?”

Stiles forced out a breath. “Yes, dummy, Allison Argent, your girlfriend?” Stiles forced himself to make that into a question.

“Yeah in my dreams,” Scott mumbled, turning back around to close the windows open on his computer.

_So no Scott and Allison_ , Stiles thought. Okay. He could work with this, that wouldn’t mean everything else is different too, right? Other than the very weird thing of his mom being alive, and Stiles was still not paying attention to the way her voice sounded when she wondered if it had been Derek on the phone earlier.

“You’re acting pretty weird today,” Scott said, moving around his room looking for something. “I mean weirder than normal.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles deadpanned.

“Did you stay up late watching horror movies or something?” Scott asked, stopping in front of Stiles to put a hand on his shoulder. “Werewolves aren’t real Stiles,” Scott said in a jokingly somber tone. “We went over this with Santa Claus too.”

Stiles kind of wanted to die for the second time today.

That was of course when Scott said, “ahh!” and picked something up that was half under his bed. Stiles tried to get his heart rate under control when he saw what Scott had been looking for.

His inhaler.

“Come on, let’s go!” Scott motioned as he stuck his inhaler in his pocket.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked, standing up.

Scott rolled his eyes, “You’re telling me you don’t remember christening today the first day of your ‘Bro-cation: A day where bros do bro things’?”

“I say ‘bro’ too much,” Stiles said to himself following Scott out of the room.

“So who’s climbing in your window?” Scott continued to talk as he grabbed his jacket, assuming Stiles was following him.

Stiles shrugged. “Mostly Derek actually,” he said, not knowing if _this_ Scott knew him or not. Scott didn’t say anything too loudly, or that was really meant for Stiles to hear, but his quiet snort and a “that sounds about right,” did not go unnoticed.

***

Saying that he and Scott had fun together would have been an understatement. Stiles felt like they were back to where they were before all the werewolf bullshit started. They drove around in Stiles’ jeep laughing, making crude jokes, talking about classes and movies.

Night had fallen when they were walking out of what they had mutually decided years ago was the best pizza place in town when Stiles glanced across the street and saw something move in the shadows. His pace slowed a little trying to catch the movement. There were quick jumps in the shadows and then a pair of glowing amber eyes focused on him. His breath caught in his throat, he blinked rapidly and they were gone. Just gone. He turned back to Scott who was still walking beside him, going on about about how he hoped Allison, who he wasn’t dating but had a massive crush on, would be out tonight, not noticing a thing. He didn’t see the eyes that shone back at Stiles, that matched how Scott’s looked when he wolfed out.

He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He refused to believe that this would be happening here too. This world that had his mom and dad happy and together in it, and Scott still the normal teenager he had wanted to be. So he threw his arm around Scott’s shoulder and turned them into the next Restaurant/Bar hangout they passed.

Scott whined high in the back of his throat when they got settled over by a table. “Allison is here,” he looked pained. And because Stiles was a good friend, even though it did drive him crazy having to talk about Allison all the time he said, “why don’t you just go over there and talk to her? We’re not in high school anymore, Scotty. You’re a man of the world now, one year older and one year wiser.”

Earlier in the day Stiles had seen the date on a newspaper confirming that it really was some sort of future. He may have been shocked by the lack of silver and robots, but overall he thought he was handling it pretty damn well. He also happened to learn that he was home from college for the summer and in less freak-out-because-he-got-plunked-into-an-alternate-universe news, he still loved Cheetos.

“But really!” Stiles continued. “Just go, you’ll regret it if you don’t”

“Regret what?” And yes, that was Derek’s voice coming up behind Stiles, closely followed by his arm falling easily over Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles held onto the cup in his hand for dear life as he turned to look at Derek, and wow, that was different. In place of his ever present scowl was probably one of the most relaxed smiles Stiles had ever seen. He may have been gaping again.

“Welcome home, Stiles,” Derek said, squeezing Stiles against him for a minute.

“Uhhhh, thanks,” Stiles said. And because it’s what you are supposed to do when someone hugs you, he put his free arm around Derek and squeezed him back, his hand resting just above Derek’s hip. Derek’s smile brightened and he turned to look back at Scott. Stiles dropped his arm, and Derek loosened his grip, but he still stood there, perfectly at ease against Stiles like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it kind of was. Derek was always shoving his way into Stiles’ personal space, there was just less violence involved in it now.

“So what are we regretting?” Derek asked. 

Scott just shrugged, looking non-committal at the whole thing. _Different universe, still has problems opening up to Derek_ , Stiles thought, taking a drink out of his glass.

“I told him he should just man-up and go talk to Allison,” Stiles butted in.

Derek nodded like it’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “You should; I think she likes you anyway, so why not go for it.”

“How can you tell?” Scott asked, trying and failing to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Derek shrugged, glancing over at Stiles. “Sometimes you can just tell.”

There was something about Derek’s vote of confidence that did it. Scott started nodding, slowly at first, which was then followed by a series of “yeah! Yeah! She totally smiled at me last week! yeah!”

“Go get ‘em, buddy!” Stiles encouraged when Scott began moving through the crowd toward her. He lifted his arm that he’d been holding his drink with to cheer to Scott’s bravery when Derek’s hand reached from where it’d been idly hanging around his shoulder to grab the cup out of Stiles’ hand. Stiles squeaked in protest as Derek smiled, lifted it to his lips, and drank the rest of it.

“Dude, so not cool,” Stiles said, but he was laughing. “You’re buying me another drink, and some curly fries, dammit!”

Derek rolled his eyes, but motioned for Stiles to walk with him back to the restaurant area. Stiles leaned next to him against one of the tall bar tables and listened as Derek ordered food from the waitress. Stiles didn’t even care that he had just eaten pizza not too long ago with Scott, when someone is buying you fries, you eat them. They ended up grabbing a couple stools when their food came, settling in next to each other as they ate and talked. Stiles was surprised at how easy it was.

“Hey, look,” Derek motioned a little behind Stiles. He turned to see Scott and Allison standing in the corner talking with each other. Stiles mouth broke out into a giant grin; who knew he actually wanted them to be together so badly. He turned back around, Derek smiling next to him, nodding.

“Our little Scott’s all grown up now, Derek,” Stiles said, putting his hand on Derek’s knee, doing his best impression of his parents, and patting his leg.

“They grow up so fast these days,” Derek responded, wiping a fake tear from his face.

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing his eyes shut trying to remember this moment. He opened his eyes to Derek smiling at him, all crinkly-eyed and happy. His eyes flicked down to where his hand was still resting on Derek’s leg, and if he was honest with himself he didn’t want to move it. Stiles was raising his eyes back up to Derek’s face when he saw someone in a crowd, a dark-haired girl that Stiles would recognize anywhere. He blinked and suddenly he was kneeling on the ground next to Scott out at the Hale house, looking down at the top half of Laura Hale’s body as she looked back up at them. Stiles blinked again and was back at the bar, he jolted a little, his hands flying up to keep himself from sliding off the stool. Derek grabbed him around the hips to keep him from falling.

Stiles looked back and she was still there, walking towards them. “Isn’t that...?” he began, a little scared and unsure, before Derek bellowed, “Laura!” Which, okay, confirmed that Stiles was not hallucinating after all. And that Laura Hale was right there, alive and well, and coming up next to her brother. Derek moved his arms to hug her quickly before she pulled up her own stool across from them. Seeing them both there together they looked normal, a human amount of normal. After being around werewolves for so long, and doing all the research, Stiles had started to notice how to spot them in a crowd even when they weren’t shifted, and right then, looking at Derek and his sister, they were human.

“You’re back, Stiles!” Laura said, smiling at him in a familiar way that clearly meant they were friends.

“That’s what they tell me,” Stiles answered, seriously, raising an eyebrow like he was in the midst of a conspiracy.

“...and just as strange,” she finished.

“He’s not strange, he’s just...an acquired taste,” Derek said, also quite seriously.

Laura rolled her eyes. “You two deserve each other.”

Stiles and Derek looked at each other at the same time and shrugged.

“And now you’re moving in unison,” Laura exhaled, “which is my cue to go find normal people to talk to.” She hopped off the bar stool and pushed her way through the crowd by the bar, practically daring people to stand in her way.

Stiles watched her go, thinking about the life they’d all be having if this was _his_ reality. It wasn’t so bad being here; he was happy, everyone was happy actually. Nobody was running for their life, or scared of anyone finding out secrets. It was kind of the life Stiles had always wanted.

“So what do you think?” Derek’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?” Stiles said, cringing at being caught spacing out.

“Did you want to go to that ballgame tomorrow?” Derek asked, his fingers idly tapping on the tabletop, a slow rhythm. Stiles thought about his Derek’s fingernails, as the Alpha, elongating when he’s mad, and the tap tap tap of them on surfaces. 

“A ballgame? Hells yeah I want to go!” Stiles said instantly.

“You don’t have plans or anything?” Derek checked, looking a little uneasy.

“Me? Plans? Dude have you met me? I only ever see you or Scott, and Scott is, well,” Stiles glanced over to where he was still nestled in the corner with Allison and motioned with his thumb as if to say ‘otherwise engaged’.

Derek’s brow creased, “What about about Lydia?”

Stiles scoffed. “Lydia? why would I be hanging out with Lydia?”

“Because.....she’s...your...girlfriend,” Derek said slowly.

Stiles froze, his eyes going wide. “Oh my god I forgot!”

Derek chuckled lowly, “You forgot? You forgot about your girlfriend; you amaze me.”

He couldn’t believe he forgot. Wow. Stiles finally had the girlfriend he always wanted, and had completely forgotten about it while spending the past few hours with Derek. He put his forehead on the table and let his stupidity wash over him. He should probably call her or something. Oh god. Stiles could see Derek’s side move with laughter out of the corner of his eye.

“Stop laughing at me,” Stiles mumbled, which made Derek laugh even harder, one loud bark of a laugh.

Stiles sat back up, Derek’s hand sliding off of his back; he hadn’t even registered its presence there, just a warmth on his shoulder now that he thought about it.

“How did I forget something like that?” Stiles actually felt kind of guilty.

“Forget what?”

Stiles jumped when Lydia popped up next to him, looking expectant, waiting for an answer.

“Uhh, that, uhhh,” Stiles was drawing a blank, he couldn’t even come up with a good lie.

“He forgot we made plans for tomorrow,” Derek supplied helpfully, covering for Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles finally caught up. “It’s part of the Bro-cation...a vacation with bros,” he said, mirroring what Scott had told him earlier.

“Cool, I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time” Lydia said, picking up her purse again. “Well I came here to hang with Allison, but I can’t find her anywhere.”

Stiles smiled. “She’s been talking to Scott for like, hours.”

Lydia scanned the crowd until she found them. “Good for him; I hope she gets a little taste of that,” she said. “I’ll just leave them alone then, my parents wanted me home tonight anyway. Walk me out?”

It took a full fifteen seconds for Stiles to realize she was talking to him.

“Yeah!” he said as he slid off his stool. “Of course!”

Stiles walked out directly behind her, noticing that his leg was suddenly chill; he realized that he had never moved away when he turned back to Derek after he pointed out Scott and Allison, when their legs pressed together and stayed. He glanced back as they reached the door and Derek was still sitting at the table, his eyes following Stiles across the room. Derek gave a small wave as Stiles walked outside, the door closing behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles’ entire body was shaking, his shoulders felt as if they were being ripped out of their sockets, his toes barely grazing the floor. He opened his eyes, vision blurry as he tried to lift his head. There was a man standing in front of him suddenly and the world went black again.

***

Stiles yawned, blinking his eyes open against the sunlight coming in through his bedroom curtains. He didn’t remember the last time he slept that well. The terror that usually held residence in his chest had even lifted during the last 24 hours leaving him feeling lighter than he had in months. It was around ten o’clock in the morning, Derek said he would be there at eleven to pick Stiles up for the ballgame. Stiles smiled to himself as he got out of bed and gathered up his stuff for a shower.

He passed his dad in the hall on his way to the bathroom. “Dad! Gooooood Morning!” Stiles said, stopping to hug him. His dad froze, his hand tentatively patting Stiles on the shoulder.

“Hello Stiles,” his dad said, disengaging himself and moving to go back into his bedroom.

It didn’t escape Stiles how his dad’s voice lacked some of the warmth he was used to, or how his body tensed when Stiles hugged him. He pushed it out of his mind as he went about his business though, showering and getting dressed before looking for a baseball cap. He found one in the back of his closet and threw it on his bed to take with him. While he was dressing he could hear his mother doing yard work out front and decided to head out there.

The air smelled warm like pure sunshine when he saw his mom standing off to the side of the house, her back to him. She was looking over the garden examining the way she had the flowers set out before they were planted. Stiles hugged her from behind, laying his head on her shoulder. “Good morning,” he said, squeezing her.

She laughed, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

Stiles froze. “What do you mean?”

“All these hugs; it’s like my little boy is back.” Stiles could have choked with how fond her voice sounded.

“I’m just glad to see you,” he said as he let go of her, rubbing his hands over his face.

She looked at him over her shoulder and smiled. “Care to help me out?”

That was how Stiles ended up mowing the lawn while waiting for Derek to arrive. Every other pass he could see his mom just there, kneeling over by the flower bed. He smiled as he turned again, letting himself smile freely with his back to her.

Stiles was in his own little lawn mower world when he was grabbed from behind, arms wrapping around him underneath his own. He felt his feet being lifted off the ground as he was …. bear hugged by Derek. There was a flash, a split second, where Stiles could feel that night in the pool where he wrapped his arms around Derek and dragged him to the surface. Stiles instinctively jerked his body out of surprise causing Derek to over-compensate, both of them falling to the ground one on top of the other.

Derek’s scruff brushed against Stiles’ cheek as he fell back on top of Derek when they hit the ground.

“What the hell, man?” Stiles asked, rolling over to punch Derek in the arm, but Derek was just laying there laughing looking so happy that Stiles couldn’t help but laugh too.

There were a million things Stiles could have said here but he went with, “I can’t believe you dropped me! I’m not that heavy!”

“How was I supposed to know you’d react like a cat who just got thrown into a bowl of water?” Derek asked, still smiling up at him.

“A bowl of water? They’re called baths, Derek,” Stiles said, tapping his chest.

Stiles looked up when he heard the mower turn off and his mother walking by, pausing to say, “Good to see you, Derek.”

“Your flowers look nice, Mrs. Stilinski,” Derek told her, raising one hand to block the sun out of his eyes.

Stiles was suddenly hyper aware of how they were sitting. Derek was still laying in the grass because when Stiles moved to punch him in the arm a few minutes before, he had rolled on top of him and was now straddling Derek, just idly sitting on his thighs. Derek’s fingers were lightly touching the outside of Stiles’ knee.

He needed to get up. Now. He could feel his face flush as the embarrassment set in.

As if he could sense what Stiles was thinking, Derek’s hand that was still at his side tightened on Stiles’ knee. His fingertips were hidden by the grass and Stiles’ shorts, and it felt too intimate for where they were. Stiles closed his eyes for a second before glaring a little at Derek.

“So you’re going to the game,” his mom was saying. “That’ll be nice. It’s a perfect day for it too. But Stiles, honey, you’re going to actually get off of him if you want to leave some time today.”

Stiles head snapped to look at her, his mouth hanging open, but she was already moving toward the house. He jumped up like he was electrocuted and stared down at Derek. “You are evil,” he said, pointing at Derek who looked unfazed.

“You’re the one who tried to crush me,” Derek said, dramatically emphasizing the last two words like he was actually hurt. “Come on, help me up and we can go.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, hauling him to his feet and then he was right there again in his space. And really, up this close Stiles could really tell how different this Derek seemed from the one he knew. There were little differences in the set of Derek’s eyes and the line of his mouth that gave it away. Stiles’ eyes raked over his face, searching for some kind of answer to how this Derek and his other Derek were the same person. Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, taking a step back. “Let me just grab my hat and phone and we can go.” He stepped around Derek making sure not to touch him. Smiling nervously at his dad who was standing on the porch (when had he come outside?!), Stiles nearly ran into the house and up to his room. He took a few deep breaths, before pocketing his phone and pulling his hat on.

He was halfway down the steps when he heard his father talking in the kitchen.

“But did you see them? The way they were with each other? Don’t tell me again that there’s nothing going on there!”

Stiles stopped moving so abruptly he nearly fell down a few steps.

“Can’t you just let him be happy?” he heard his mom saying.

“I thought he had gotten past this,” his dad said. “He started dating that Martin girl, went to school, now he’s back two days and is all over Derek Hale in our goddamn front yard.”

“Why don’t you just...,” his mom began before being cut off.

“I don’t have to _just_ anything,” his dad yelled. “My position is elected, you think they’re going to re-elect a Sheriff with a gay son?”

Stiles felt like someone punched him in the gut. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get there himself, to say ‘yeah, I’m gay,’ and there his dad was, yelling at his mom like having a gay son was the worst possible thing imaginable. Stiles wanted to walk straight into the kitchen and tell him that there were a million things more important than whether or not he liked boys. Like learning to live after a parent died, or living in fear every day that you or your friends were going to be killed, and having to lie all the time about your life, never relaxing or being able to breathe properly. But he didn’t. Stiles took a couple deep breaths, squared his shoulders, and walked the rest of the way down the stairs. His parents’ conversation stopped abruptly when he walked past the door to the kitchen, but he didn’t stop until he was on the front porch with the door shut behind him.

Derek was standing right there, leaning against the house underneath the front porch light. Stiles could see it on his face that he had heard some or all of what his father was yelling about, and it made his chest constrict.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek whispered, his voice soft.

Stiles shook his head, pulling the bill of his cap down lower. “No. Let’s just go.”

“Come on,” Derek said quietly, bumping his shoulder against Stiles and urging him on.

Their ride was quiet. Stiles didn’t talk and Derek let him be silent, not trying to force any kind of conversation until Stiles was ready. He kept hearing his father’s words echo in his head. It was the first thing in two days that made Stiles wish he was back in his world, the real world. He felt thin, like he was being pulled back, the weight in his chest settling into place once more.

He could faintly hear a voice speaking to him, asking if he was alright, if he wanted to do something else today. _Derek_ , Stiles thought and warmth spread through him. Stiles let the feeling wash over him, his body feeling solid again. He realized Derek stopped talking.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles asked, turning a little towards the driver’s side.

Derek glanced over at him, his face serious, the worried line of his brow sparked something inside of Stiles and he realized that it was _worry_ that he always saw on Derek’s face. It wasn’t anger, it was worry, and that completely changed the way he viewed all of their time together. Stiles smiled at Derek now waiting for him to give in and smile too. It was about a minute of Stiles staring at him and smiling, while Derek glanced at the road, back at Stiles, back at the road, and at Stiles again. When the change happened it was obvious. Derek’s shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened.

“Great!” Stiles yelled, clapping his hands together once. “Now that that’s settled, where are our seats at?” Because if Stiles was good at one thing it was deflecting.

Derek rolled his eyes and turned the radio up. Stiles’ chest heaved with silent laughter.

“I’ll find out sooner or later,” Stiles said, poking Derek once in the cheek.

Derek did this little puppy sounding growl and moved to try and bite Stiles’ finger. Stiles thought he would die in that moment from laughing. He doubled over in the front seat, laughing so hard his entire torso hurt and his cheeks were burning.

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles said when he could finally speak again. He steadied himself with a hand on Derek’s leg. “You’re hilarious, how did I never realize how hilarious you are?!”

“You are the strangest human I’ve ever met,” Derek told him as he pulled into a parking lot by the stadium.

Stiles put his hand to his chest and faked like he was crying. “Thank you,” he said, holding back fake tears. “Thank you.”

Derek playfully shoved Stiles’ head, smiling. “Get out of the car, Stiles.”

*

Their seats were awesome. No. Awesome didn’t quite describe them correctly. Their seats were so good that Stiles wanted to find the architect who designed the stadium and blow him for even placing seats where they were at.

“I’m the one who picked them,” Derek mumbled beside him, making Stiles realize he had said all of that out loud.

Impulsively Stiles hugged him, maybe because today he just needed a hug after what had happened with his dad, or maybe he just wanted to for no reason at all, but there he was standing with Derek in front of their seats and wrapping his arms up and around Derek’s neck to hug him. “Thank you,” he whispered, letting go before Derek could do more than just place his hands on Stiles’ back.

They sat through the first few innings cheering, rooting their team on, and talking. Something had changed. Somewhere between this morning at the house and that very moment something was different. Stiles started paying attention and noticed that Derek touched him, like, a lot. A hand on his arm to get his attention, his leg pressed to his as they laughed about a joke, a palm pressed to his back when they were walking, always contact somewhere on their bodies. And after a while Stiles found that he was touching him back and had been since the bar the night before.

“All I’m saying is that if they fanned out the infielders a little, so many balls wouldn’t go through the gap,” Derek was trying to get Stiles to understand why they were losing, which was in and of itself a losing battle. Stiles nodded, trying to keep the look off his face that said I-have-no-idea-if-you’re-right-or-not and “hmm’d” at the appropriate time. They were walking to one of the concession stands.

The crowd wasn’t too bad back by the food, it never was during the innings. They found a stand with food they agreed on and went to get in line, Derek standing slightly behind Stiles. A few kids ran through the line ahead of them and Stiles stepped back along with the couple of people in front of him to let them through. He felt his back come up against the front of Derek’s shoulder. The hand on Stiles’ lower back stopped his movement though, and he settled there even after the people in front of him spaced back out. Always touching.

It had taken what Stiles called “mad skills” to carry everything back to their seats. They bought soft pretzels with cheese, each of them got a hot dog, a thing of nachos, and drinks. Stiles vowed to leave no crumb or bit of cheese left untouched because of how much it all cost. They balanced the food on their knees, each of them reaching for what they wanted off of each other’s laps easily as they watched the rest of game.

When a foul ball popped up and flew back over them both, Stiles and Derek turned in their seats to see where it would land. A group of people jumped up to try and catch it, each of them waiting for it to fall. Stiles saw a hand in the middle of the crowd reach up just a little higher than the rest of them and grab it out of the air. As they began to sit back down Stiles saw that it was Jackson Whittemore. “Of course,” Stiles said, not surprised Jackson would be the one to get the ball. Stiles was turning back to face the game when the woman next to Jackson jumped up and clapped a couple times before throwing her arms around him.

Stiles froze, Derek’s hand coming up to his shoulder. It was Lydia. Stiles tilted his head a little watching them together, it was obvious they were on a date. And in all honesty Stiles felt himself not caring. In his head he thought he should be angry or hurt, but she wasn’t _his_ girlfriend really. He glanced over at Derek and then back at Jackson and Lydia. Even the day before when Stiles knew that he and Lydia were dating he was so uncomfortable around her still, and with Derek he felt at ease. Stiles was always able to hold his own with Derek, even when he tried to shove him around. They spent more time than not saving each other’s lives.

Stiles wondered why he hadn’t realized this before.

“I’m sorry, man,” Derek said beside him when they finally turned back around.

“It’s okay,” Stiles told him. And he meant it. “I mean, I’m here with you.”

Derek got this look in his eye and neither said anything else; Stiles took a deep breath and went back to watching the game while Derek idly began running the back of his fingers along Stiles thigh for the rest of the game.

*

They pulled up to Stiles’ house as the sun was setting. Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt, angling his body a little towards Derek.

“Thanks,” Stiles began, “for the game, and, for everything.”

Derek’s voice was quiet as he said “You’re welcome.”

Stiles wanted to kiss him; he wanted to climb on top of him and bite his jaw just to see how his scruff would feel against his lips. But he didn’t. He put his hand on top of Derek’s and squeezed, a little smile curling his lips when Derek intertwined two of his fingers with Stiles’.

“I’ll see you... yeah?” Stiles asked, looking at their hands.

“Yes,” Derek said.

“I should probably,” Stiles motioned with his free hand something that vaguely meant go inside. “I need to,” Stiles was full of unfinished sentences.

“Probably,” Derek echoed, running his thumb along Stiles’ wrist.

“Yeah.”

***

Stiles’ mom was sitting in the living room watching the evening news when he walked in. He flopped down next to her on the sofa watching the weather report, and the fluff story after it. He began to space out when he realized who the newscasters were speaking about. He refocused his attention just as they were repeating “...two years since Beacon Hills High School student Erica Reyes died after having a seizure in gym class. This year’s fundraiser has almost surpassed last year’s....”

Stiles’ eyes went wide. Erica hadn’t died. Stiles saw Scott catch her, and then Derek turned...No. There weren’t werewolves here; Derek hadn’t turned her and she died. Stiles started to think about everybody else and began worrying about what kind of hell Isaac was going through. He hoped his dad didn’t beat him here, now. Christ. Why hadn’t Stiles thought of further repercussions?

“Are you alright, honey?” his mom asked, looking at him.

He realized he did seem a little panicky, his breath speeding up, his eyes darting around as he tried to take it all in. Stiles shook his head.

“I’m alright,” he said.

It was obvious from the look on her face that she didn’t believe him. Stiles didn’t know what to say. Shit. Even here he was having to lie, only this time it was to a different parent. He had to say something.

“I...,” he began. “I don’t think me and Lydia are dating anymore,” he blurted out.

His mom nodded and put her hand on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stiles shrugged. “We were at the game, you know? And we saw her there with Jackson.” He paused, rubbing his face. “And I feel like I should care, but I kind of don’t. Like. At all. And then Derek....”

“What did Derek say about all of this?” she asked, her voice soft.

“He said ‘Sorry, man,’ and I don’t know, mom. Sometimes... Derek... I think...” Stiles felt like he just couldn’t say it. He leaned his forehead against his mom’s shoulder and took a couple deep breaths.

“Sometimes you think you like Derek?” his mom supplied.

Stiles nodded his head, unable to speak.

“And Derek likes you,” she said, it wasn’t a question.

Stiles nodded again.

“So what’s the problem?”

He looked up at her, so close from where his forehead had been resting on her shoulder. He was a little surprised how how alike they looked, thinking of all the times his dad had said that he reminded him of her and Stiles didn’t quite believe him. He saw it now.

“What about dad?” Stiles had to ask.

“He’ll come around,” she said, winking at him.

Stiles grinned and leaned in all the way to hug her. “I love you.”

*

When Stiles got up to his room he was happy to see that one constant still remained in his world: Google. Stiles booted up his computer and started searching for whatever was causing him to be there. He began with terms like “fantasy world” but that returned too much porn, transitioned to “dream world,” eventually landing on Genies; which kept him on track until he came across Christina Aguilera’s _Genie in a Bottle_. A few plays on youtube later and Stiles was mumbling “come come come on and let me out” when a picture on a site about lore caught his eye.

The tattoos, the eyes, it was the man he had seen that day in the parking lot with Derek. A Djinn, the caption read, like a Genie it seemed to grant your deepest wishes, but in reality it held people captive and drained their essence making them believe they were in a perfect world.

Stiles realized that must be what happened to him. He was somewhere, somewhere in _his_ world, being held, dying. He knew now that he had to get out. This world was almost perfect, his mom was alive, his parents were happy, Scott was a normal kid again and was (hopefully) coming close to dating Allison, Stiles technically still had the girl of his dreams, and Derek was happy. But it wasn’t perfect. His dad obviously did not approve of the whole gay thing, Scott’s asthma seemed worse than it had before, Erica was dead, and who knew what else had happened to all the others. Stiles hated to even think it, but he had always felt like there was a deeper connection to the Derek he knew, the one filled with loss, like he just needed someone to hold his hand and help him out of it all so he could be happy again. And Stiles always did believe he had excellent hands for holding.

He had to go back, he knew it now for certain. This wasn’t where he belonged. There was just one thing Stiles had to do before he left in case he never got another chance.

***

Derek was rubbing his eyes sleepily as he opened the door.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, “Are you okay?” It was late. Stiles realized that now. He had been researching and thinking for hours.

“Can I come in?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah come on,” Derek said, pulling the door open further and stepping out of the way to make room for Stiles.

But Stiles didn’t move away once the door was closed; when Derek turned around after throwing the lock Stiles was right there in his space. Stiles could feel his heart rate pick up. 

“I wish you could hear that,” he whispered. “I wish you knew.”

“Knew what?” Derek whispered too, his back against the door.

Stiles moved closer, grasping the shirt at Derek’s sides. “Can I just...” he mumbled, glancing down at Derek’s mouth.

“Anything.”

He was already there though, and could feel the breath of the word on his lips as Derek said it. The initial press of their lips was soft, tentative. Stiles caught and kept Derek’s bottom lip between his own. Derek made a quiet content noise before winding his arms around Stiles and pulling them together. Stiles gasped and opened his mouth to the feel of Derek’s tongue against his. He shifted, rubbing his lips along Derek’s cheek just to feel the rub of his beard against his mouth.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered, kissing the spot below Derek’s ear. “I had to know what that was like.”

Derek turned his head to look at Stiles. “Why does that sound like goodbye?”

“There’s somewhere else I need to be,” Stiles told him.

“You’re meant to be here, with me,” Derek said as he leaned his forehead against Stiles’. “Stay.”

“Can’t,” Stiles said, stepping away. “Don’t belong here.”

Derek’s brow furrowed making Stiles grin. “There’s my sourwolf,” he said, smoothing out the lines with his fingers.

“We could be happy here,” Derek pressed. “You don’t have to go.”

“You know he’s right, Stiles,” came a voice from behind him.

Stiles turned around to see his mother stepping out from the shadows. “Why would you want to leave me? Everyone you love is here.”

“I...have to...,” Stiles voice was straining. “You’re not real.”

“Sure she is, son,” and suddenly Stiles’ father was beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Stay and we can be a real family again.”

“We are a family, dad,” Stiles told him. “And I have to get back to you.”

Scott was stepping up beside him, appearing like he had just stepped out of a blind spot. “Why did you have to keep digging, Stiles? Couldn’t you have just left well enough alone for once?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. This isn’t real. And I want what’s real even if it hurts, even if it drives me mad in the process.”

“Don’t do this,” Derek spoke from his other side.

“You’re not real,” Stiles whispered before lifting his arms and shoving both Derek and Scott away as hard as possible. He took advantage of their surprise to spin around and tear the door open. He willed himself home, to wake up, to be in the real world once more. The door slammed hard behind him.

***

Stiles gasped, eyes shooting open but unable to focus. His shoulders stung and his head felt too heavy, he coughed and suddenly he was being lifted up, the pressure from his shoulders releasing.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” someone said as they cut down his arms, picking him up.

The cool leather on his cheek made Stiles open his eyes again, squinting. “Derek,” Stiles croaked, his throat impossibly dry.

“Shh, I’m getting you out of here.”

Stiles readjusted so his forehead was pressed against Derek’s neck. “You smell like sunshine,” he said before passing out again.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles definitely didn’t think he needed to be in the hospital. He was maybe a little dehydrated, and his blood count was suspiciously low, but he didn’t believe he needed to be there. His father, doctors, nurses, and Derek Hale, however, all disagreed with him. He had learned in the past couple hours that he had been gone for three days and was found in an old warehouse one town over.

Derek had followed Stiles’ scent as far as he could, but then it disappeared completely. He read through the bestiary and learned what the thing was that had taken Stiles, searching all the place he knew of that fit the description of where it might hide until he found the place. Derek told the police that he had heard yelling while in the area and went to see what it was. He even stayed on the scene until the cops arrived; Derek did it right.

Stiles didn’t remember any of it of course, but that was how he ended up in the hospital.

“Dude you’re kind of grey,” Scott said, perched on the arm of the chair in his hospital room. Allison sat down in the actual chair, her arm resting on his leg. A month ago... a week ago... hell even a few days ago Stiles would have rolled his eyes and wondered why they had to be touching all the time. But then that’s how things had been with Derek, with _other Derek_ , as Stiles was now going to refer to him.

It was natural.

“It’s from the blood loss,” Derek said, walking in the door.

Scott gave him an odd look.

“He’s grey from the blood loss,” Derek reiterated, and pointed at his ear as if to say I’m-a-werewolf-you-idiot.

Stiles smiled at him and what he was holding in his hands. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. He couldn’t reach far for them because of the IVs stuck in his hands, so he just turned his hand over, palm up. Derek walked up to the side of the bed, opposite where Scott was sitting and set the candy down in his hand.

“You are a life saver!” Stiles exclaimed, closing his hand around the packaging. “Not that you hadn’t already technically saved my life earlier, but this takes it to a whole new level.”

Derek smirked a little and rolled his eyes before moving to lean against the wall behind Stiles’ IV machine. He was just dancing in and out of Stiles’ peripheral vision, hiding in the background like he didn’t belong, but he hadn’t left the hospital, or Stiles, since they arrived a few hours before.

Scott was watching Derek openly, his head in the (patent pending) ‘Wolf Tilt’ mode.

“So what did you see?” Allison was asking. She hesitated, thinking better before trying to backtrack. “I understand if you don’t want to tell us! I was just curious about what it was like.”

They all knew it was a Djinn, and what Djinn’s do. They had figured it out after Stiles had been taken. None of them had heard any first hand accounts though.

Stiles waved his hand like it was no big deal and began telling them what happened from the beginning, starting with the parking lot after school. He told them how he had been talking to Derek and then suddenly they were being attacked.

“And I woke up in my bed next to Lydia,” he said, “who apparently was my long term girlfriend. Yeah, let that one sink in.”

“Was I there?” Scott asked, scooting closer.

“Yes Scott, you were there, and so was Allison, and Derek,” Stiles said, pointing with his thumb back to where Derek was trying to fade into the background. “I feel like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz right now.”

“Anyone else?” Allison asked this time.

“Uhh, my dad. Jackson, because apparently I can’t even escape that tool in a dream world, and....,” Stiles trailed off, he felt like he couldn’t tell them his mom had been there, like it was too intimate a detail. But then he saw Scott’s face, and Scott had known his mom too, he had been there through all of it. “....and my mom.”

Stiles could actually feel the mood of the room change when he said it, and he didn’t even have werewolf senses. Scott reached forward to rest his hand on Stiles’ arm for a second, giving him a sad sort of smile. Stiles nodded back, letting him know that he understood.

“But, uh, it was just like real life,” Stiles moved on. “There were just differences, like, you two weren’t together at first, but I think you ended up together. There were no werewolves so you still had asthma, sorry Scott, but pizza was still delicious and everyone was happy,” he finished, tilting his head a little to peek at Derek. “Everyone.”

“That’s kind of awesome,” Scott said, standing up.

“Yeah, awesome,” Stiles repeated after him, trying to make it sound like he really believed that.

“I have to get Allison home but I’ll stop by the house tomorrow, or just call me whenever you feel up for some company,” Scott gave his shoulder a bro sort of punch as he finished speaking.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Allison said, giving him a small hug.

“Thanks guys,” Stiles said. “See you later.”

Stiles waited for the door to fully close behind them before settling back down into the bed, taking a deep breath. It still smelled faintly of summer to him.

“Why did you lie to them?” Derek spoke quietly, still just outside of Stiles’ line of sight.

“Can you move up here where I can see you?” Stiles asked. He reached his hand out to the side, meaning to grab Derek’s hand and pull him closer, but he stopped halfway through the movement realizing what he was doing, curling his fingers inward to help hide the intention. It pulled at his IVs and he hissed, moving his arm back. But then Derek was there, holding Stiles’ hand out and making sure the needles are still in place.

“I didn’t think they would understand” Stiles said, answering Derek’s previous question, watching more than feeling the way one of Derek’s hands ghosted over the top of his.

Derek nodded, but he didn’t ask anything else and it made Stiles want to tell him more as he set Stiles’ hand down, actually placing it on Stiles’ stomach.

“It wanted me to believe it was a perfect world,” Stiles began. “And it kind of was.”

“That’s what they do,” Derek said, still standing right up next to Stiles’ bed, his thighs resting against the mattress.

Stiles shrugged and started to tell Derek everything. He told him about his house being different, and how he had to force himself not to throw-up when he saw him mom because of everything he was feeling. He explained some of the tension he felt between himself and his dad, and how it nearly tore him apart. And Erica being dead.

“And we,” he paused, noticing that sometime while he was talking Derek had sat down next to him on the bed. “We were really good friends.”

“We were?” Derek asked, his face a whole new kind of unreadable.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “I’m pretty sure my mom liked you more than me.”

“I knew your mom?” Derek smiled, a quiet soft smile.

Stiles was about to mention his sister being there too when Derek asked another question.

“What made you leave? I know how Djinn’s work, you had to want to leave, really want it,” Derek said, his eyes serious.

“Because it was wrong. We were all happy, safe, but it wasn’t real. It felt artificial; it was so perfect it kind of scared me. I didn’t think anything could be that way, so perfect, and if it is then I want to be there to help make it that way, I don’t want to be plopped down into the middle of it,” Stiles took a breath. “So I said goodbye to you...to everybody, and I left.”

“But it gave you your wish,” Derek said, resting his hand on bed on the other side of Stiles’ thighs, bracketing him in.

Stiles shrugged. “Sure, my mom was alive, Scott was a regular boy again, you... Lydia was my girlfriend.”

“Is that what you really wanted?” Derek asked, his body tensing.

“No,” Stiles said, looking at him seriously. “It’s not what I want.”

Derek dropped his head a little, and moved his hand just before the door opened.

“Good news, I talked to Mrs. McCall and they’re going to discha....,” Stiles’ dad trailed off, eyes flitting back and forth between Stiles and where Derek was sitting, very close to him, on the bed.

“I’m getting released back into the wild?!” Stiles crowed, doing his damndest to curve whatever was going on in his dad’s head just then.

“I should, uhh,” Derek said as he stood up, still looking down at Stiles. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Stiles wasn’t sure why Derek was thanking him, but he’d bet anything it was the honesty. Derek didn’t have a lot of trust in his life. Stiles smiled up at him, and got a real smile in return.

Derek turned to leave but Stiles’ dad stopped him. “Thanks for what you did,” he said, holding a hand out to shake Derek’s hand. “No hard feelings?” 

“You’re welcome, Sir” Derek said. “I’m just...It was no problem.”

And suddenly Derek was gone and the Sheriff was standing there with his hand still out.

“Since when are you and Derek on hand-shaking terms?” Stiles asked, still working on that deflecting thing.

“That’s funny, son, because I was going to ask you the same thing.”

***

The couch in their living room was even more comfortable than he remembered. He was definitely adding ‘poor cushion quality’ to the list of reasons why he tried to so hard to get home.

On the drive home his dad had told him that they didn’t end up catching the guy that kidnapped him, but that they had a lot of evidence from the warehouse where they found Stiles. They drove through some place to grab some food, and Stiles let his dad order whatever he wanted because he knew how stressed he must have been.

“Home sweet home,” Stiles said, looking around the living room. It was exactly as it was supposed to be. He looked at the couch and could remember so vividly seeing his mother sitting there. Stiles walked over to it and plopped down, face first into the cushion.

“Don’t you want to get in your bed?” his dad asked from behind him.

“No,” Stiles said, his face still smashed into the cushion. “‘m good.”

He felt his dad put a blanket over him, rubbing a hand on the back of his head. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I love you, dad,” Stiles mumbled, already drifting to sleep.

“Love you too, kiddo.”

Stiles awoke to the smell of his dad cooking dinner. He rolled over, clutching the blanket up to his chin as he pressed his forehead into the back of the couch. He breathed deep, letting himself wake up slowly, enjoying the feel of the house around him. Stiles realized he felt better than he had before; like the tension that had coiled itself so tightly around his chest had disappeared in the past few days. Nothing seemed as overwhelming today as it had a week ago.

He got up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, shuffling to the kitchen. His dad was cooking spaghetti and garlic bread. Stiles sat down in one of their chairs facing the stove.

“That smells delicious,” Stiles said. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. And wow, he suddenly realized that he really hadn’t. It finally hit him that his mind had been somewhere else but his body was still here, tied up in a warehouse. Holy shit. What if he had died? What would his father have done without him? His mind whirred through all the possibilities. _Stop_ , he had to tell himself. _Stop it_. Derek had found him, and he was alive at home where he belonged. Derek had found him. He found Stiles with his wrists bound, tied to a beam above his head under god knows what kind of condition. It must have been horrible for him. Stiles remembered Scott telling him about when he found Derek chained up under his house after Kate Argent had tortured him. Was it painful for him to see Stiles in a similar situation? He really needed to talk to Derek again. Stiles laughed a little at the realization that he just started freaking out about Derek’s mental health, not even his and he was the one who was just kidnapped.

“Something funny?” his dad asked as he set their plates of food down on the table.

“I think I might be kind of gay,” Stiles blurted, and wow that wasn’t exactly what he had been planning on saying, but it worked. His brain-to-mouth filter must be even more off than normal.

His dad stuttered at the sudden admission. “I know, Stiles.”

Stiles gaped at his dad. “You do? How? I just figured this out!”

“Keen observational skills,” his dad said, smiling. He was smiling. He still loved him.

“Huh...” Stiles said, letting anything else he was going to say drift away.

They began eating, chatting about school and work. Stiles felt this weight he didn’t even know he was carrying being lifted knowing that his dad was okay with this. This was why he had to get home so badly. Right there in the kitchen, he and his dad, happy. That was his reality.

“Dad, what would mom think?” Stiles asked, using garlic bread to wipe up some sauce on his place, pointedly not looking at his father.

“I think she would have just wanted you to be happy,” he said, his hand coming to close on Stiles’ shoulder. “She only ever wanted you to be happy.

“Good,” Stiles said, glancing up at his dad. “Because I think she’d probably really like Derek.”

His dad snorted, “she probably would.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Wait, what?” his dad asked.

Stiles did this slow motion exaggerated shrug, but said nothing else.

“I should have known by the way he was leering at you in the hospital earlier,” his dad mumbled, not exactly sounding happy, but not too displeased either.

“Creeper love is deeper love,” Stiles said matter of factly, eating the last of the toast.

“Never say that to me again and I’ll allow it.”

Stiles dropped his fork, clunking loudly on the plate. “Did you just...? Did I just hear you right? I mean I don’t even know if he even would....”

“Stiles,” his dad interrupted him. “I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but I think he would, remember what I just said about the leering?” Stiles nodded. “And I just want you to be happy too,” he finished.

It was a miracle Stiles didn’t crash to the ground trying to get out from under the blanket he was still wrapped in on his way to hug his dad.

***

“You have got to be kidding me,” Erica said, her voice strained.

Stiles had gotten up the next day, threw on some clothes and driven straight over to Derek’s. He had knocked on the door instead of calling out like he normally would have, and waited. When Erica opened the door Stiles felt this unexpected rush of relief that she was still alive that he instinctually threw his arms around her neck and hugged her, pulling them a little out onto the poor.

“Is this seriously happening to me right now?” she asked, trying to shake Stiles off of herself without actually hurting him.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice floated out to them from inside the house.

Stiles let go and grinned at Erica. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said. “How’s Isaac?”

Erica gave him an odd look. “Thanks? And he’s fine, I’m on my way to meet him for breakfast.”

Derek was leaning against the doorframe watching them, his face unexpectedly fond.

“Hey Derek,” Stiles said, moving closer to him. “Erica’s alive!”

“I see that,” Derek said.

“I don’t even want to know what that Djinn did to you,” Erica said, hopping off the porch. “Try and get him to not hug me anymore, okay Derek?”

“I can’t promise anything,” Derek said back to Erica but was looking at Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t hear what Erica said in response, but Derek huffed a little before motioning Stiles to come inside.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked as they walked back to the far corner of the house. It was the room Derek lived in, with a couch, bookshelf, a bed, and a tiny refrigerator.

“Good, good,” Stiles said. “I slept, ate, had possibly the best shower of my entire existence and slept some more. So I’m good.”

“How’d you get past your dad? You’d think he wouldn’t let you out of his sight after what happened,” Derek was moving to sit on the couch, Stiles still a couple feet behind him.

“Oh I just said I needed to talk to you about something, and here I am,” Stiles said as nonchalantly as possible.

Derek actually tripped a little, catching his foot on the table in front of the couch, caught off guard by Stiles’ honesty.

“You told your dad you were coming here and he was okay with it?” Derek asked, sitting down, trying to cover up how awkward he had just been.

“Yep,” Stiles said, not elaborating on that any further. “I wanted to tell you everything else that happened to me in that...world, where the Djinn had me. I didn’t get a chance to finish telling you yesterday”

“Stiles you don’t have to,” Derek said, and he meant it. “I understand if....”

“Laura was there,” Stiles cut him off.

Derek looked down at his hands. “Laura?” Derek’s voice caught. “How did she...How was she?”

Stiles sat down on the coffee table, his knees just on either side of Derek’s.

“Happy. We saw her at a bar and grill. You guys hugged and she told me she was glad to see me back,” Stiles had to tell him everything. “She joked about us deserving each other’s company and then ran off to find ‘someone normal to talk to.’ It felt like,” Stiles paused, unsure of how to continue. “I didn’t see them or anything, but the way you two were it felt like your entire family was there. Alive.”

Derek nodded slowly, looking up at Stiles. “Thank you for telling me. And for...the Djinn makes the world you think you want, so thank you for wanting them in it.”

Stiles hadn’t thought about it like that, but he knew Derek was right. Stiles looked at him, this boy who was only a few years older than himself, who had lost so much. “I just want you to be happy,” he said quietly, echoing the words his father had said to him earlier.

They lapsed into silence, Stiles letting him have this time to think or to ask questions if he wanted.

“You said I smelled like sunshine” Derek said eventually. 

“I did?” Stiles asked, he didn’t remember that, at all.

“Right after I cut you down. I was carrying you out and you whispered it right before passing out again,” Derek said. “ _You smell like sunshine_.”

He might not have realized it at the time, but it was the truth, and now that he thought about it he could sense it in the air around him.

“You do,” he said honestly. “And cut grass and rainbows.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay so maybe not rainbows, but the rest, yeah, you smell like the first real day of summer. The first _burst_ of summer. Always have. That day me and Scott first saw you while looking for his inhaler I looked up so suddenly because I thought it smelled like summer in the middle of fall.”

He looked a little surprised, taken aback by Stiles’ words.

“So we were close in this other reality,” Derek said, like he was trying to get his facts all straight. “You said ‘we’ when talking about Laura. The two of us were together when you saw her?”

Stiles nodded. “We were eating, sitting at one of those bar tables.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Scott and Allison were off in the corner somewhere,” Stiles said. “But yeah, the two of us, eating, talking, laughing.” _Touching_ , he left unsaid. “It was easy to be there in that world. Too easy.”

“Is easy what you want?” Derek asked.

“If I wanted it I’d still be there,” Stiles told him.

“You’d be dead,” Derek said. “Thank god you’re too stubborn for something easy or you could be dead right now, Jesus, Stiles. I’m sorry you got taken. I don’t know how that thing got past me. That shouldn’t have happened. Maybe it’d be best if....”

Stiles could see it there on his face, the worry, and the end of a sentence he did not want to hear. He grabbed Derek’s hand and placed it against his chest.

“I know you can feel that Derek,” he said, pushing Derek’s hand harder against himself. “I’m alive, and you can feel the beat of my heart against your hand.”

“But,” Derek tried to say, but was cut off by Stiles again.

“No buts today,” Stiles said, shaking his head.

Derek let out a shaky breath, locking eyes with Stiles, their hands clasped over Stiles’ heart, the thump thump thump of it soothing both of them.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, his body sliding to the edge of the table. “We kissed.”

Derek’s eyes glanced down to Stiles’ mouth and back up to his eyes. “How was it?”

“It was nice,” Stiles said, licking his lips.

“Nice?” Derek asked, his hand slowly fisting in the fabric covering Stiles’ chest.

“Sweet,” Stiles smiled, and moved with the slight pull of Derek.

“Sweet?”

“Innocent.”

“Innocent,” Derek breathed out, leaning back into the couch and slowly pulling Stiles forward.

Stiles let himself be pulled, his knees easily slid on either side of Derek until he was straddling him. Derek’s hand still fisted in his shirt.

“Not enough,” Stiles said to him, his mouth inches away. “Not nearly enough.”

There was a low growl reverberating through Derek’s chest when their mouths met. Stiles grabbed the back of his neck, swiping his tongue against Derek’s. He felt Derek let go of his shirt and slide his hand around to press against Stiles’ back. Stiles bit at Derek’s bottom lip, going up on his knees so he could pull Derek’s head back further. He shuddered as Derek ran the tip of tongue along the roof of his mouth.

This was so much better than the other kiss. They didn’t even register on the same scale. Derek and hot underneath him, pushing their bodies together. Stiles tore his mouth away, running his teeth along Derek’s jaw to feel the scruff of his beard under his tongue.

“Stiles,” Derek gasped.

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice even as it spoke directly into Derek’s ear, his teeth nipping at his earlobe.

Stiles felt more than heard Derek’s chest rumble, and then his hands were at Stiles’ hips, gripping him and slamming him back down so he was sitting in Derek’s lap. He rolled his hips up against Derek, feeling how hard they both were against each other.

“Fuck,” Stiles grunted, his head falling back.

Derek took advantage of it and leaned forward to run his nose from Stiles’ collarbone up to right behind his ear. He then repeated the path with his tongue. “How are you even here right now?” Derek asked, breath hot in his ear.

“I came back for you,” Stiles told him, running his fingers up through Derek’s hair.

“You,” Derek paused to bite down the line of Stiles’ jaw. “You had me there.”

“No,” Stiles said, using his grip on Derek’s hair to tug his face up to meet his own. “I wanted the real you.”

Derek froze for a split second before he reached down, grabbing the hem of Stiles’ shirt and pulling it over his head. Before Stiles could react Derek had his mouth sealed over the place Stiles had been holding his hand to earlier, right over his heart. Stiles closed his eyes and curled closer to Derek, trying to cover as much of him as possible. He grabbed Derek’s shirt from the back and pulled it up and over him to the front. Derek had to back up a little to get the shirt completely off and Stiles took advantage of the new position to grind down, hard, against Derek’s crotch.

“Jesus,” Derek breathed out, putting his hands back onto Stiles’ hips and rocking them together. They stayed like that, just looking at each other, their movements syncing up with each thrust. Stiles was letting out a quiet _uhng uhng uhng_ each time they hit the apex. He wanted more though, he needed more.

“Undo your pants,” Stiles said, sliding back a little to give Derek some room. He watched as Derek’s hands moved, flipping the button and slowly dragging down the zipper. He could hear a small exhale of air when some of the pressure against his erection was released. Stiles slid back, he gripped the edges of Derek’s boxers and jeans, pulling them down with him as he knelt on the floor in front of him.

Stiles leaned forward and ran his nose from base to tip like he thought Derek might do, getting his scent. He could hear Derek breathing heavy above him, his hands gentle on Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles’ tongue curled up against the crown before putting his whole mouth around Derek. He moved his head to the rhythm of their slow thrusts moments before. Derek was trying not to buck up into his mouth, but he couldn’t keep quiet. He was letting out these breathy groans mixed with Stiles’ name. Stiles thought he could have handled anything, but hearing his voice fall from Derek’s mouth like that was too much.

He reached down and cupped himself through his jeans, releasing a groan as he dipped his head back down around Derek.

Derek moved suddenly, lifting Stiles up from under his arms so he was once again sitting up on the coffee table. Before Stiles could even think about doing it himself, Derek had his pants off, discarded next to them with Derek’s clothes. Derek slid an arm behind Stiles’ ass, his hand cupping the back of his hip when he took Stiles in his mouth completely.

“Jesus Christ!” Stiles yelled, but was unable to move much from where Derek was bracketing him in. His mouth was hot and wet, the slow scratch of his beard against parts of him was making goosebumps rise and fall up and down his arms.

“Please,” Stiles breathed out. “Derek... Derek... Let me touch you again.”

Derek pulled off, hollowing his cheeks on the way up. “Oh god,” Stiles said before Derek was pushing the table back a little so there was more room to pull Stiles down onto his lap.

Stiles gripped his thighs around Derek’s hips where they knelt on the floor together. He sighed when their mouths connected again, slower, not as hungry as before.

They began moving together, the slow rock of their hips causing Stiles breath to catch. His back was pressing hard into the table behind him each time he rolled his hips up against Derek’s body. He reached between them, feeling Derek’s hand there holding them together; Stiles held from the other side, parts of their hands overlapping, flexing and moving with each thrust and release.

“I’m so close, Derek,” Stiles said, speeding up their hands. “So close.”

Derek nodded and sped their hands up even more, thrusting up higher and harder. Stiles came, a whine high in the back of his throat as his body tensed, shooting between them. “Fuck, Derek,” Stiles bit down on his neck and sucked a mark there, holding him tight as Derek came against them, their hands and torsos sticky and wet.

Stiles relaxed, letting himself slide down so his knees were on the floor. He rested his forehead against Derek’s chest, breathing deep. Derek’s hand came up to cup the back of Stiles’ neck, his thumb rubbing small circles against the skin there.

“I could stay right here forever,” Stiles said, closing his eyes.

“Then stay.”

Stiles lifted his head, placing a soft kiss on the side of Derek’s neck. “Let’s lay down,” he whispered against the skin there.

Derek stood, lifting Stiles with him. Stiles wrapped his legs loosely around Derek’s waist for the short walk over to the bed. It all felt so right, like all the pieces to his life had just fallen into place. Derek laid him down and crawled over his body to press up against him from the other side. Their breathing synced and slowed, both of them relaxing into each other.

“Hey,” Stiles said, a thought nudging its way to the surface. “We should go to a baseball game.”

***

In reality Stiles had to go home again, he couldn’t really stay there with Derek forever, but after that things were different. Derek had been over to the house, had dinner with Stiles and his father. Stiles could feel the slight tension that still existed between the two fading.

Stiles was rummaging through his closet for a baseball cap when he heard Derek’s car pull up outside. “I can’t find my fucking hat,” Stiles said, knowing Derek could hear him through his open window.

The door opened downstairs, Stiles could hear Derek and his dad greeting each other, talking. Stiles nearly banged his head on his closet door when he heard his father laugh...he was laughing at something Derek had said. Stiles gave up searching for his hat and headed downstairs. His father was walking into the kitchen when he reached the bottom of the steps, still smiling about whatever he and Derek had been talking about.

Stiles felt happy, light, at the idea of Derek and his father getting along without him there as a buffer. Derek was standing over by the front door in jeans and a t-shirt, also looking relaxed and happy.

“Hi,” Stiles said, walking up to him.

“Hi,” Derek smiled.

Stiles leaned in and kissed him, not even intending for it to be chaste. He backed Derek up to the door, placing his hands on either side of Derek’s shoulders as he swiped his tongue into Derek’s mouth, pushing all his contentedness into it. He felt Derek’s hands come to rest at his hips, holding him.

He didn’t hear his dad yell for them to have fun at the game, or the sound of him walking back into the living room, or the exaggerated sigh. But he did hear the “Stiles, you’re going to actually get off of him if you want to leave some time today,” and the laugh quiet and low coming out of Derek.

“Sorry dad, young love, and all,” Stiles said, turning his head to look at his father.

“Come on,” Derek said, reaching behind him to open the door.

“It’s been a pleasure as always, Derek,” Stiles’ dad said in what Stiles could only define as a hilariously monotone voice.

He was laughing as he pulled the door closed, following Derek out to car. “Hey where are our seats at?”

 

End.


End file.
